If You Can't Stand The Heat
by fitzybeag
Summary: 'You don't know what you've got till it's gone' A modern Daisy/William, set in the Downton Abbey Hotel. Please review
1. Chapter 1

William stepped out of the tube station and smoothed down the shirt he had freshly ironed that morning.

Checking his watch, he quickened his pace and headed towards Downton Abbey. The beautiful, colossal hotel was located in the heart of London's West End, and guarded over the street like a silent protector.

Inside, the reception was buzzing with energy – staff running to-and-fro, wealthy guests storming through to the breakfast room.

William couldn't get his head around it. Every staff member knew their place, their duties, their purpose in life. He'd been working here as a waiter for a week now and still hadn't a clue what was going on.

"Where have you been?" spat Thomas, the other waiter, as William hurriedly fixed his tie and set to work.

"I'm not late, am I?"

"You're late when I say you're late."

William scurried over to arrange the spoons at an unoccupied table, just to look busy.

Thomas hated when he looked idle.

{}{}{}{}

Daisy threw her hair up in a messy ponytail as she bounded through the back entrance of Downton Abbey. She was dead late, as usual.

"Daisy Robinson," boomed a loud voice behind her.

She spun round to find Mr Carson, the executive manager, tapping his watch impatiently.

"I-I'm so sorry, sir," she stuttered, "I was running for my bus and I missed it, so I ran for the train and I missed that, so –"

Carson waved a hand dismissively. "It's alright, Daisy. Now hurry along before Mrs Patmore has a conniption."

Technically, Daisy and the manager weren't even supposed to cross paths. As the dishwasher, she took orders directly from Ms Patmore, the head chef. However, like most members of the staff, he had a soft spot for the young girl.

She scurried off into the kitchen, where she threw on her apron over her tracksuit.

She was on her way over to the sink when Mrs Patmore's cynical tone stopped her in her tracks.

"You know, someone from a land where time stands still would have a better understanding of punctuality than you!"

Daisy tilted her head slightly. "Actually, I was born in Hackney, miss."

Mrs Patmore threw her eyes to heaven and turned back around to her frying pan.

"Everyone has the right to stupidity but you, my child, abuse the privilege! Now, get started on those pots before the oats start sticking."

{}{}{}{}

William scurried to and fro, trying not to panic as he juggled between English Breakfasts, glasses of orange juice, bowls of fruit salads, and low fat cereals.

Thomas gave him a violent nudge. "That croissant was supposed to be warmed up ages ago, William!"

"Right. I'll do it now."

William hurried into the kitchen, croissant in hand. Inside, Mrs Patmore and the other chefs were busy preparing meals, so he turned to Daisy, who was elbows deep in hot, soapy water.

"Daisy, you couldn't heat this up for me, could you?"

He had seen her around the kitchens a lot over the last week, but rarely had the opportunity to start up a conversation. All he knew was she spent a lot of time scrubbing pots and had the most beautiful set of eyes he'd ever seen.

"Me? What should I know about croissants?"

William was speechless for a few moments. "You're a cook aren't you?"

"Do I look like a cook?"

He looked up and down at her worn runners and faded Adidas tracksuit. No, she didn't look like Mrs Patmore, anyway.

"Suppose not."

"I think she'll trust me enough to use the microwave, though, if you want?"

William just nodded, his mind suddenly blank.

Daisy zapped the flakey pastry in the microwave for a few seconds, then served it up on a plate. "Take it while it's hot."

With an almost apologetic, _thanks, _William sprinted out of the kitchen, leaving Daisy to return to her growing pile of plates and cutlery.

{}{}{}{}

The usually tedious breakfast passed faster than usual that morning, and Daisy took her lunchtime break on the step of the fire exit.

It was an average grey day in London, and the clouds covered every possible acre of blue sky.

She zipped up her hoody further, and held her head in her hands, watching over the lonely backstreet.

Footsteps sounded down the corridor and stopped directly behind her. She recognized the gentle, clumsy plodding immediately. _William._

Without even a word of acknowledgement, he sat down beside her.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes, until William stretched and looked up at the sky. He tried to be all nonchalant around her, but inside he was grinning like a mad man.

"You alright, Daisy?"

"I'm just thinking. What about you? You looked pretty flustered this morning."

"I was not!" William protested. "Thomas likes keeping things moving, that's all."

Daisy smiled, staring dreamily into space. "Thomas is nice, isn't he?"

He shrugged. "Suppose so."

"And he's so tall."  
>William decided not to point out that he was just as tall as Thomas. "I suppose."<p>

"He's too smart for me, though. I wouldn't even be able to have a conversation with someone like Thomas."

William's brow creased. "I think you're smart, Daisy."

She laughed. "As if! I haven't been to school properly since I was fourteen! Most six year olds can read better than me!"

"What age are you now, then?"

"Sixteen." Daisy looked quickly over her shoulder. "Well, fifteen, but I'm supposed to be older to work here. What about you?"

William leaned back against the wall. "Sixteen. This is my first job, actually. I'm from Yorkshire, out in the country, but I'm staying with my aunt and uncle while I'm in London."

"I've never been to the country. It's all farms and stuff, isn't it?"

"Not all of it. We live in a little house just outside the village, where my dad has his shop."

'WHERE IS THAT GIRL? DAISY? GET IN HERE NOW!"

Mrs Patmore's roar caused both of them to jump two feet.

"I'm coming, Mrs Patmore!" called Daisy, pushing herself to her feet and dusting off her apron. "We should have more of these chats, William."  
>He felt his heart expand two sizes. "Yeah, I'd…I'd like that."<br>Alone on the back step, William sat smiling to himself.

{}{}{}{}

"William, I've to head home early tonight, alright?" said Thomas, removing his bow tie and running a hand through his greased hair.

"Oh, okay. Plans?"

"If I did it would be none of your bloody business."

William ducked his head and continued clearing up the empty restaurant.

Thomas switched off the lights as he left, leaving the young waiter in complete darkness.

William sighed, and wearily felt his way around the room.

After a few moments, the light was switched back on, and in walked a wiry, middle-aged woman.

"William? What are you doing in here in the dark?" exclaimed Mrs Hughes, the assistant manager who had welcomed him on his first day.

"I couldn't find the switch, that's all. I'll be done soon."

"I wish you wouldn't let Thomas take advantage of you. He's just a waiter, like yourself."

"Oh, I don't mind a bit of extra work. It keeps my mind off things."

Her face creased in concern and sympathy. "What kind of things do you have to keep your mind off?"

William was silent, and continued wiping down one of the tables.

"Being homesick is nothing to be ashamed of," said Mrs Hughes, placing a hand on his shoulder, "It means you came from a happy home. God knows a lot of people here would envy that."

He couldn't help of think of Daisy then, for some unknown reason. He knew so little about her, but in quiet moments he saw that deepness in her eyes. They were eyes that had seen too much for a girl her age.

But he also saw how they sparkled when she talked of Thomas. One day, he'd like to see them sparkle for him. If only.


	2. Chapter 2

William checked his unread text messages as he made his way into the restaurant's kitchen for a morning coffee.

_Hi Will,_

_Glad to hear the jobs going well._

_We miss you soo much at home_

_but everyones so proud :)_

_Love you darling,_

_Mum xxx_

He sighed.

"Texting your girlfriend, William?" sneered Thomas, who had his feet up on the kitchen table, where the regular gang were gathered, drinking mugs of tea and coffee.

"Oh, leave him be, Thomas," groaned Anna, fixing her makeup in a compact mirror. She was the head of the cleaning staff – a kind, sensible woman who many regular guests knew by name.

William took a seat beside Gwen, another cleaner.

"Daisy?" roared Mrs Patmore, "Holy Saint Angela, where is that child now?"

"Yeah, Mrs Patmore?" Daisy poked her head around the doorway, where she was tending to the sink.

"Get in here now, before I drag you by the feet!"

Daisy all but sprinted into the main body of the kitchen, her small hands still covered in suds.

"Now, put the kettle on for William. He looks parched."  
>Daisy did as she was told, shooting William a cheeky grin as she passed him by.<p>

Thomas cleared his throat and sat up a little higher in his chair, a plotting look in his eyes. "You wouldn't make me a sandwich, Dais'?"  
>Bates, the new head of security, shot him a glare. "Can't you use your own legs? You can see she's busy."<p>

"No problem, Thomas," she smiled, "What'll you have?"

"Give us a BLT. With extra mayo."

She set to work putting on the grill and chopping the tomatoes.

William wasn't surprised that his tea was soon forgotten.

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Later on in the day, Mr Carson came forward with an announcement for the staff.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is my obligation to inform you that tonight we shall be hosting an important guest who needs no introduction – Mr Kemal Pamuk"

The female members of staff exchanged excited glances, while the men threw their eyes to heaven. To them, Kemal Pamuk was just another pretty boy popstar, with no musical talent.

"Lord Grantham has therefore requested that the staff line up to welcome Mr Pamuk in the courtyard entrance. Everyone should be in full uniform and appear well kept. Thank you for your time."

With that he filed out of the room, leaving the excited garble behind him.

{}{}{}{}

The kitchen was buzzing with panic as the evening drew nearer. Pamuk had arrived in his limousine and everyone – apart from the lower kitchen staff like Daisy, of course – lined up and gave him a magnificent welcome. Presently, Mrs Patmore was more worried about her apple strudel than anything else, which suited Daisy just fine, and she found the time to steal a quick tea break with Anna.

"Bates tells me he's up to his eyeballs in all this Pamuk business," Anna sighed. She seemed constantly concerned with Bates, something Daisy couldn't get her head around.

"I suppose the security would have to be careful, wouldn't they? I mean, any guest could just walk up and shoot his head off."

Anna giggled. "He's a singer, Dais', not Barack Obama. Besides, he's dining with the Crawleys in the private room."

Daisy raised her eyebrows. "I didn't even know there was a private room."

"Apparently, Lady Mary has a bit of an eye for him. Thomas said when he was clearing their starters, she and Pamuk were having great chats, almost with her back to Matthew."

Daisy tilted her head. "Why's that important?"

"Come on, Dais'! Mary and Matthew have been the on-off couple of 2011!"

Daisy nodded, catching on. "So, if she and Pamuk hooked up instead, it would ruin everything?"

"Exactly," she smiled. "Not that it would ever happen, of course."

After the success of the dinner, Thomas had headed off early, to leave William with the rest of the clearing up in the private dining room. Not that he minded too much.

William certainly admired all the glamour of the room, but he couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. That was, until he caught sight of the grand piano in the corner.

Looking over his shoulder, he stealthily approached the fine instrument, running his hands across the keys in awe. He dared himself to press down one key, and another, and another, until his hands were doing all the thinking.

"William?"

He spun around, clanging down on the keys in fright.

Daisy jumped. She had her bag swung over one shoulder, obviously heading home for the night.

"Daisy, you frightened me!" he grinned sheepishly.

"Who taught you do that?"

"Do what?"

"That stuff with the piano."

Her face was serious, almost grave. She was in awe.

William blushed, looking down at the pedals. "My mum taught me when I was younger. We had an upright piano back at home – an old, clangy one that sounded like a broken engine. But she made it sound magic. I never knew how she could do that."

He moved up a few inches and she sat on the stool beside him. "Play me a song, William."

He swallowed the lump in his throat and stretched his fingers over the keys. He loved that sensation, pressing down on the opening chord, and letting his fingers take him away. Soon, he wasn't even playing for himself anymore – it was for Daisy, every note.

When at last he reawakened into the real world, he was met by a fleeting kiss on the forehead, and Daisy was gone.

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The night rain pelted against the bus shelter, but Daisy was too tired to even care. It felt like years since she'd had a proper nights sleep, or even slept in an actual bed. It seemed like the world was moving too fast, and no one had ever taught her to run.

When she'd finally convinced herself she wasn't going to get any sleep with the storm she was caught up in, Daisy gathered up her belongings and headed towards the one place she knew guaranteed warmth – Downton Abbey.

Her feet subconsciously carried her up and down the city backstreets, half asleep. She tried to think, contemplate her plans for the future, but it gave her nothing but a headache. One thing she knew, though, she couldn't keep running away forever.

Daisy slipped through the front entrance of the hotel, weary of sleep walking guests, and was about to make her way into the kitchen when she stopped herself. Anna was working the late shift tonight, and would probably be finishing up soon. Maybe she could crash on her couch?

Daisy wandered the guest corridors in the darkness, and even dared herself to venture up to the prestigious top floor. She poked her head inside one of the cleaning cupboards. "Anna?"

Suddenly, a scuffle was heard coming towards her from up the corridor, and Daisy dived inside the press. She peeked out the keyhole, and nearly doubled over in fright.

She knew the image before her would be etched in her memory forever – the Turkish popstar slung over the arms of Anna, Mary and Mrs Crawley. Dead.


End file.
